Day 12.
Today’s walk to Greenriggs Campsite near Lambley promised to be shorter, flatter, and blessed with a pit stop in Alston for a decent brunch and a much-needed rucksack upgrade. Happy days. The first 6km was a gentle trundle across fields and scenic riverbanks – a far cry from our history with the town.
Chris cycled through Alston, when he did the gruelling London-Edinburgh-London bike Audax and I cycled through there when I did my coast to coast duathlon. Last time I’d been there, Alston had been my turning point. I was close to giving up, nursing a painful big toe after the nail decided to depart due to a big blister underneath. Thankfully, my run was saved by a panic-booked hotel room, a supermarket bottle of TCP and some DIY surgery with my trusty penknife.
We found the small outdoors shop and rushed in, eager to see what they had to offer. Unfortunately the selection was slim. They had plenty of daypacks, but only one proper hiking rucksack in the entire store: a 40L men’s bag. Not ideal but it would have to do.
Wincing in pain, I sat right down on the floor to empty my old bag and squeeze everything into the new one. It would sit on my hips and take the pressure off my back – just what the doctor ordered. I handed the shop lady my beloved old Montane bag – the very one that had accompanied me for JOGLE and Coast to Coast – to throw away – RIP.
After a lovely second breakfast at the local cafe, we set off down the South Tyne Trail. This was a small diversion from the Pennine Way to avoid some notoriously boggy fields and a million stiles. The trail ran next to the tracks of the South Tynedale Railway, where the steam train runs back and forth between Alston and Slaggyford. It wasn’t the most inspiring walk, but seeing the steam train was lovely.
Sometime later, we rejoined the Pennine Way for the final 5km stretch to our campsite. Chris wasn’t best pleased with me due to a misunderstanding; he’d wanted to keep following the dry trail, whereas I thought we had agreed to head back onto the main path. Predictably, those last few miles were completely waterlogged, and our feet got thoroughly soaked. As the clouds cast over and we feared it may rain, we put our heads down and surged forward.
Finally we reached Greenriggs Cottage Caravan Site, and our luck turned. The rain didn’t happen, so we were able to pitch our tents on nice dry ground, and the wonderful owner came out to greet us with massive mugs of steaming tea and some biscuits.
The site had a fantastic welcoming atmosphere. A few people staying in the little shepherd’s huts and camper vans even leaned out of the windows to ask if we needed anything. There was also an empty caravan available for guests to relax in during the evening. It turned out to be an incredibly relaxing night.
Day 13.
We set off in sunshine, putting us both in a good mood. Packing up dry things in a dry bag – awesome.
We knew we would be rejoining the PW and heading across Blenkinsop Common that day. We had heard all the horror stories of how boggy it could get, but by this point, we were becoming immune to the mud. My feet never stayed dry anyway, and not just because some of the bogs are deeper than ankle-height – we had noticed my shoes had developed rips, meaning they leaked even in shallow puddles. (Since returning home, I’ve sent them back to SportsShoes.com, who have been amazing and have already replaced them with a brand-new pair of walking boots).
Both in good moods we were laughing and mucking about as we tried to straddle the bogs, hop the bogs and then finally gave up and surged right through them as our feet were wet anyway. Thankfully, we had been using Gewohl foot cream throughout the trip, so despite the swamp conditions, our tootsies remained completely blister-free.
At Greenhead we came across a small Honesty Box we had heard about. It was homemade flapjacks and water. They were delicious.
After passing Thirlwall Castle, we joined Hadrians Wall. We enjoyed walking along the trail in the sunshine, seeing an increasing number of hikers along the way. After five kilometres the path came to a road crossing and we were debating which way to go next. Just as we were checking our watches, a passerby mentioned that there was a coffee van just around the corner. The excitement was indescribable. We practically ran towards the turning and came upon Cawfields Quarry.
Just as the man said, there stood a shiny coffee van, looking as though it were bathed in celestial light. Feeling like giddy kids, we hurried over, completely overwhelmed by the choices. We couldn’t decide whether to start with a cola, a coffee, cake or crisps. In the end we had all of them – of course.
After our lovely break we rejoined Hadrians Wall. This was one of my favourite parts of the entire trail. When people say it undulates, they are not kidding; it is actually incredibly hilly. You climb up stone steps to a brow, then head straight down the other side – on repeat. However, I was feeling fantastic. My new backpack was comfy, my back pain had vanished, and I had more energy than I’d felt on the whole trip so far. I was whizzing up and down the climbs. The views were to die for, the weather was beautiful and life was good.
In contrast, Chris found the steep step sections were aggravating some tendonitis in his hip so we tried some lower routes where could find them. We finally reached the highest point at the Winshields Crags trig point. It would have been a beautiful place to stop and rest but we wanted to crack on to The Sill YHA.
Unfortunately, upon reaching the hostel – which looks like a cross between a modern office block and a spaceship – we were told we couldn’t get our room keys until 5:00 pm. It was only 3:30 pm, leaving us with a long wait.
Fortunately, the weather was gorgeous, and there was an attached cafe. Chris sat outside to air the tents while I sat down to air my feet. It’s a good job no one was sitting near us; two-week-old hiking boots that have been submerged in swamp every day do not smell good.
Day 14.
Today we headed to Bellingham. Chris had booked us into a Hotel there as a treat and we had arranged to meet up with Kate and Maren at the pub for dinner.
The day started with us walking up a steep hill to rejoin the Pennine Way. More miles of Hadrians Wall passed with me saying ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ every few minutes as the views were utterly stunning. A few miles in we came to Sycamore Gap which felt really special. It’s easy to imagine how it must of looked before the tree was cut down as there is a picture there on the side of the wooden cage that protects the remaining stump. It’s nice to see that some foliage is growing back now but it still felt sad that it was no longer there in its full glory.
A few kilometres later, we left Hadrian’s Wall behind and headed directly north, following fields with long rushes and small woodland trails. For a while our next ‘carrot’ was to see signs for Horneystead Farm – honesty pit stop. We knew we would see it today but were unclear on how far in it was. After many fields,cows and brows where you could see it mocking you in the distance you suddenly dipped down into a valley and into a wooded area. From there, a crazy short sharp climb took you up to the farmhouse.
We stopped for mugs of tea and some cold drinks from the honesty box and sat in the yard chairs eating our own sandwiches. .Inside the snack shed there were signs of the involvement with the spine including a photo of a fierce pack of women from The Montane Spine Race huddled together, looking appropriately hardcore.
After Chris proved he was a big softie by feeding most of his crisps to the dog that appeared to join us, Helen came out to greet us. She’s helped support runners on the race for many years and admitted she’s going to step onto the other side of the fence and do the Spine Challenger North next year. Absolute icon – wishing her all the luck in the world.
The remainder of the day was fairly easy going on fields and more unusually on roads. There was one last ankle-biting climb up to a high point before descending into Bellingham.
After resting up in our lovely hotel room – feeling delightfully guilty and incredibly indulgent – we headed downstairs to meet Kate and Maren for dinner. Despite taking a rest day, they had managed to catch us up by smashing out some seriously long days. We all fuelled up on stodgy, carb-loaded dinners before moving onto the real event; various types of sponge pudding, naturally swimming in custard.
The orders were placed like a competitive auction: ‘Lots of custard, please,’ ‘Extra custard, please,’ and finally, ‘I’d like more custard than her.’ It turns out I am in excellent company with some fellow custard loving fiends.
